


Summer's Over

by thesnadger



Series: Summer's Over [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Set after this whole "end of the world" business is resolved, Tumblr Prompt, summer's over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger/pseuds/thesnadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ford came back to Gravity Falls, he told Stan he would have to leave at the end of the summer. But when that day comes, is he really going to put his brother back on the streets?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer's Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribefindegil](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Scribefindegil).



> I asked Tumblr to send me sad, angsty prompts. Scribefindegil sent the following: "Stan in a universe where the world doesn't end and Ford really does kick him out after the summer without a word of thanks or acknowledgement."

### Summer’s Over

Stan stacked the last of the bobble-head dolls in the box and sealed it shut. He had no idea what he was going to do with them all. He’d meant to have a going-out-of-business sale during his last week in Gravity Falls, to get rid of the stuff that he couldn’t take with him. But that plan, (along with plenty of other things) had gone out the window when the sky opened up, when time stopped and everything changed.

He was probably lucky to be alive at all. To have all his family still breathing and unharmed. He was lucky they’d been able to stop that monster and bring the world back to normal. He didn’t feel lucky. Packing up decades worth of work, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind…no, he didn’t feel lucky. Just tired.

The sound of Soos tunelessly humming some pop song came from the corner, where he was sitting and folding t-shirts.

“Man…these last few days have been nuts, huh?” Soos said. “I’m pretty sure I saw a guy explode into a bunch of cartoon owls. Though that might have been a dream or a video game, come to think of it.”

Stan didn’t respond. He took the singing fish Soos had gotten him a few years ago down from behind the cash register and put it in the ‘keep’ pile. At least he’d been able to say goodbye to the twins. They were safe even after all the crazy, dangerous stuff that had come at the end of summer. That was something.

“Hey, how much of this stuff are we packing up, anyway?” Soos asked. “I mean, I know the off-season’s coming, but we’re barely leaving anything on the shelves.”

Stan winced…he really couldn’t avoid telling him any longer. He took a deep breath and turned around.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” he said. “Something I probably should have told you a lot sooner. But…” _Just tell him._ Stan thought. _Rip the bandaid off._ “You’re gonna have to look for a new job after today.”

Soos’s face fell. He looked a little panicked “Is…is this about that one attraction I took a bite out of? I thought it was a giant gummy koala, I swear it won’t happen again!”

“It’s not that. I’m not firing you. But…” Stan folded his arms, looking off to the side to avoid Soos’s pleading gaze. “The Mystery Shack is closing down. Permanently.”

“W-what?”

“Now that Ford’s here, he’s taking his house back. And he’s made it pretty clear what he does and doesn’t want in it. _Who_ he doesn’t want in it.”

Soos went silent. He looked at Stan, then at the gift shop around him, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I’m packing everything up. Leaving most of it behind, probably. If you want anything, you might as well take it. When I’m gone Ford’ll probably just throw it out.” Stan sighed. He picked up a taxidermied creature from a table nearby and looked at it. “I…I guess…it was always just a way to pay off Ford’s mortgage so I could stay here and work on the portal. I guess there’s really no reason to keep it running now anyway.”

Every word made Stan feel lower. This was it. This was the day he’d become another guy who left Soos behind. Someone who worked his way into the poor kid’s heart and then never saw him again, never able to do more than send an occasional postcard. Stan chanced a glance back at him—he looked heartbroken in a way that Stan hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

“But…uh…hey.” Stan did his best to smile. “…I got you something to go with your last paycheck. Call it a souvenir. Probably the last one anyone’ll get from this place.”

He reached behind the counter and pulled out a box he’d stowed there that morning. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with string. Soos took it and unwrapped it. His eyes went wide when he saw what was inside.

The red silk fez that Stan had inherited when his parents died. The fez he’d impulsively thrown on while giving tours one day that had ended up becoming part of his look for more than a decade. Soos lifted it out of the box with reverence. Stan smiled a little. He felt a pang he couldn’t quite place seeing Soos holding it, but at least the kid didn’t look so sad anymore.

“…R-really?” Soos looked at Stan. “Are you sure?”

“You and me, we kept this shack running for ten years. You deserve it.”

Soos removed his baseball cap and carefully lowered the fez onto his head. He turned to look at himself in the mirror that was set up next to the sunglasses rack. He looked like he might start crying.

“Thank you…” he said quietly. He turned back to Stan, eyes huge and damp.

Stan gripped Soos’s shoulder, hard. “…Are you going to cry?” he asked seriously. “Cause you’ve gotta warn me if you’re going to cry.”

Soos’s mouth wobbled, but he held firm, shaking his head.

“Good.” Stan let go of Soos’s shoulder. “I know you’ve always wanted it. And it’s not like I’ll need it where I’m going.”

Soos’s eyes got impossibly wider. “…You’re…you’re not going to walk into the woods to fight the beasts of the forest until you find one that can give you an honorable death, are you?”

“Yeesh, where do you get these ideas?” Stan shook his head. “No. I’m just…gonna have to hit the road for a while. Now that Ford’s back, everyone in town’s going to find out what I did. There might be some trouble after that. I mean…it’s fraud on a pretty big scale. And it’s probably best that I’m gone when the police start showing up with questions.” He turned back towards the counter so he didn’t have to see Soos’s face. “I…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit. You know. The cops in this town are pretty dumb, but–”

Stan stopped and made an involuntary noise. Soos had pulled him into a crushing hug and was looking at him with huge, liquid eyes.

“Take me with you.” Soos whispered.

For a moment, Stan wanted to say yes. He didn’t want to be alone again. He didn’t want to leave Soos without a….

Without a…whatever Stan was to Soos.

But he knew that he couldn’t. Soos was tougher than he seemed, true, but he was still a big kid in so many ways. Soos wasn’t cut out for the kind of life Stan had lived when he was Soos’s age. No direction, no stable home, doing things for money that he’d thought he’d never do. Even if Soos was cut out for it…that wasn’t a life he’d want for him. Besides, Gravity Falls was Soos’s home…more so than it ever was Stan’s.

Stan took a deep breath. He counted to five in his head. _Make it good,_ he told himself. _Make it count. Make him believe it._

Stan pushed Soos off of him and put both hands on his shoulders, looking him seriously in the eye. “I can’t, Soos. I need you here. …Because I need you to carry on my legacy.”

“…Legacy?” Soos asked.

“That’s right. Without me here, the people of this town won’t have anyone to separate them from their hard-earned money. No one to show them a handful of dirt and glitter and convince them it’s unicorn droppings. No one to get them lost in the woods and charge them fifty dollars for a map. It’s gotta be _you_ Soos. You’ve got to be the new Mister Mystery.”

“Oh, man….” Soos gasped. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“You’re ready. There’s no one I’d trust this with but you.”

Soos gripped Stan’s hand in both of his and nodded seriously. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines.”

“I know you won’t.” Stan forced a smile (not that much force was needed, not much force was ever needed. Smiling through the pain came naturally.) He pointed to the door. “Now, go! Go and give this town the Mister Mystery it needs! Make them see a werewolf in a weirdly-shaped tree branch! Convince them that rabbit and an antelope could ever have a baby together! Show them mystery and wonder in a pile of garbage, and then charge them through the nose for pictures!”

Soos nodded and took a deep breath. He raised his arms and ran out of the shack, shouting about destiny.

“Go, Soos! Make me proud!” Stan shouted after him. He stood in the door , watching while Soos vanished into the distance. Then he sighed and turned back towards the gift shop.

“Why did I do that…” he muttered. “Now I’ve got to pack all this crap up myself.” Stan wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve and turned back to the shelves of useless merchandise.

\--------------------------------------------------------

He finally finished the last of it late the next morning. He sealed the last box and piled everything up outside, next to the trash. Then he went back in to pack the last of his things.

The house was quiet without the twins. Ford had to be down in the basement—he’d barely emerged since the twins had left. Stan hadn’t so much as seen his face since he’d started packing up the gift shop. He wondered, distantly, whether his brother could hear him moving around upstairs.

Stan was in the living room, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag when he heard the door to the basement open. He felt something twist in his chest as Ford walked past the door, paused, and looked in.

“Are you packing?” Ford asked.

Stan looked down at his bag and grunted something that might generously be considered a response. Ford walked into the living room.

“Do you want some help?” he asked.

“Trying to get me out the door faster, huh Poindexter?” Stan growled. “Don’t worry. I’m almost finished. You won’t have to look at my ugly mug much longer, except in the mirror maybe.”

Ford sighed. “Never mind.”

Stan shoved a stack of undershirts in his bag, sullenly silent.

“…This is for the best, you know.” Ford said. “For both of us.”

“ _Both of us?_ ” Stan snapped and turned to face Ford. “How could it possibly, _possibly_ be what’s best for me? Ever? Thirty years, and you’re sending me away _again?_ How could that be for the best?”

Ford turned away. “All I want is to have back what’s rightfully mine. You have to admit that’s fair.”

“You wouldn’t know fair if it walked up and bit you on the ass.” Stan mumbled.

“And you _would?_ ” Ford said incredulously. “From what I’ve seen, your idea of 'fair’ is whatever benefits _you_ the most at the time.”

They glared at one another. Fists clenched at Stan’s sides. But the fight quickly slipped out of him.

“…Is this really what you want?” Stan asked, his voice soft, without the resentment it held a moment ago. “After all this time…do you really want me to just _leave?_ ”

Ford looked him in the eye. “Yes. I do.”

Stan felt his hands shaking. Deep down, he realized he was surprised. …Had he been expecting Ford to change his mind? To tell him that of course he could stay—he hadn’t really meant it. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. After all this time, had he really been holding out hope that Ford wouldn’t want to see Stan on the streets again? That he might even feel some guilt at telling him to leave in the first place? That he might even want Stan around?

Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted Stan around since they were teenagers. Maybe not even then.

“Fine, then. I’m gone.” Stan turned and zipped up the duffel bag, slinging it around his shoulder. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to punch more—his brother for his coldness, or himself for being dumb enough to open himself up like that again. He’d been asking to get hurt.

Stan walked to the door and looked back, but Ford had already turned around. He was sifting through some papers on the table. Looking through the mail. He wasn’t even facing Stan.

“Don’t worry about me.” Stan sneered. Not that it needed to be said. Worry about him? That was a laugh. Ford would probably forget about him the moment he walked out the door. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve been thrown out by my own family.”

Ford sighed, still barely looking at him. “…I need to live in my own house. I need my life back, Stan. I can’t have that if you’re here. I hope someday you’ll understand.”

“…You don’t want me here. I understand that.” Stan said

Still not looking at Stan’s eyes, Ford turned and started up the stairs. “…You can call me if you need something important.”

Stan stared at his brother’s retreating back, trying to will him to pause, to turn around. To at least look at him again before leaving him behind. But he didn’t.

Live in his house. Take his life back. Stan was the _reason_ he was back at all. Thirty years of sleepless nights spent working and worrying. Thirty years toiling to pay off Ford’s mortgage, his student debt, thirty years of maintaining and repairing his house. He’d lived in this house longer than Ford ever had. He was the reason everything he had hadn’t been repossessed in his absence, that his property hadn’t been reclaimed by the state or left abandoned into ruin…he was the reason he had a house to come back to, he…

He was the reason that Ford had been trapped outside his home for thirty years in the first place. A heaviness settled over Stan. He turned and walked outside to his car.

“’…Call you if I need something important.'” Stan muttered, arranging the last suitcase in the backseat. It was cramped. He distantly wondered if he’d be sleeping curled over the steering wheel tonight. “…I need my _family._ ”

Stan shut the door and walked over to the front seat. There was nothing left to do. Everything was packed. He’d said goodbye to Soos. Given Wendy her last paycheck. Seen the twins off.

He started the car and realized he had no idea which direction he was going.

Stanley Pines was banned from more than half the country, but Stanley Pines had been dead for over twenty years. And Stanford Pines was back inside his house. So who the hell was he? Nobody. Which meant he could go anywhere.

He had nowhere to go.


End file.
